


Extra Whip

by Door



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider, POV Outsider on Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, always tip your barista
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3979831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Door/pseuds/Door
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's been working at the Beacon Hollow Brew-Up for over a year now, and she knows all of the customers and their regular orders.  The tips help her pay for books, but the most interesting thing that's happened is the time Ishu set a dishtowel on fire while cleaning the espresso machine.  Then one day a guy she's never seen walks in looking awkward in a leather jacket and straight-up LIES to her about what kind of drink he wants.</p><p>“'You hated that latte you got last time, and it was not because it was a bad latte.  I have never made a bad latte.  Order what you really want.'</p><p>He glared at her.  'Latte. Med--'</p><p>'No,' she interrupted.  They glared at each other for a long minute.</p><p>Finally, he huffed out a breath.  'White chocolate mocha.  Medium.'"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extra Whip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betp/gifts).



The first time he came in, he looked a little lost.  It was 9:45 am, and the yoga studio next door had recently let out a class, so the coffee shop was full of what Sam privately thought of as the “Yummy Mummies.”  It wasn’t strictly accurate, because there were two daddies amongst their number, but they all dropped their kids off at the nearby private school, went straight from there to the studio for a morning class, and then lingered over coffee in the shop where Sam worked, the Beacon Hollow Brew-Up.  They were mostly a sweet bunch, if a little gossipy.  About half of them were divorced or single, so it wasn’t a huge surprise when the entire bunch went conspicuously silent as he walked in.

He was wearing jeans and a henley, both of which fit him _very_ well.  Sam was mostly attracted to ladies, but she’d crushed on a few dudes in her time.  This dude wasn’t her type, but from the way Elena (small-skinny-double-shot-hazelnut-latte-no-whip), Jessica (dark-roast-with-two-sugars), and Jonathan (large-americano-with-an-extra-shot-yes-I-know-how-much-caffeine-that-is-thank-you-samantha) were eyeing him, he was _definitely_ someone’s.  He had that sort of monied hipster look, like he maybe also had dropped his kid off at a private school.  Only the slightly-too-big leather jacket gave him away.

He seemed to realize all of a sudden that he was the object of scrutiny.  Priyanka (med-cappuccino-extra-dry) leaned over to whisper something in Jonathan’s ear, and leather jacket’s cheeks went red.

“Hey!” Sam called out.  “First time in?  What can I get started for you?”

He walked over to the counter, face still expressionless.  He glanced up at the menu board, eyes skimming to the left, where the sweet drinks were listed.

“Latte.  Medium.”

Sam hummed and punched it in.  “No flavoring?” she asked.

He hesitated slightly  “No.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, grabbing a medium cup and a sharpie.  

“Yes.”

She shrugged and wrote his order on the cup.  “Name?”

Leather jacket looked over his shoulder at the lack of a line behind him.  A half a dozen heads whipped around in the Yummy Mummy corner, which he pretended not to notice.  He turned back and raised an eyebrow at her as if to say “really?”

Sam raised an eyebrow right back.  She twirled the sharpie, once.

He rolled his eyes.  “Derek.”

“Awesome,” she said, scrawling his name beneath his order.  She set the cup back down, then gave him his total.  

He handed her his credit card, took the receipt, which he folded neatly and stuffed in his wallet, took out a dollar to drop in the tip jar, and then walked the few steps to the bar.  Izzy was still on break, so Sam started making his drink herself.  “This’ll just be a minute.”

When it was ready, she poured a swirly little leaf in it, just because, and called his name even though he was standing right there, glaring at her.  

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, then took a sip.  He was half turned away, but Sam saw him grimace slightly.

“Taste okay?”  She asked.

“Fine.”

“Great!” she said.  “Thanks for stopping in, and have a great day!”

He nodded, then stalked out, steadfastly ignoring the Yummy Mummy stares.

Sam heard Izzy walk up behind her.  “You know that dude?”

“Nah,” Sam said.  “But he lied about what drink he wanted, the weirdo.”

“Whatever,” Izzy said, and pulled her apron on over her head.

* * *

The next time he came in, it was 10:45, so the morning yoga people had cleared out, and the working-on-their-novel people had moved in.  None of those people gave him a second glance.

“Hey, Derek!” Sam greeted as he walked up.  He looked momentarily surprised that she’d remembered his name, but the expression didn’t last long.  “What’ll it be today?”

He glanced up the same way he had last time, eyes darting to the left and away, before he said, “Latte.  Medium.”

“Nuh-uh,” Sam said.

He looked a little startled.  “What?”

“You hated that latte you got last time, and it was not because it was a bad latte.  I have never made a bad latte.  Order what you really want.”

He glared at her.  “Latte. Med--”

“No,” she interrupted.  They glared at each other for a long minute.

Finally, he huffed out a breath.  “White chocolate mocha.  Medium.”

“That’s more like it,” Sam crowed, hefting a cup and a sharpie.  “Alright, skim or whole milk?”

“Whole.”

“Excellent.”  She wrote the order, and his name, on the cup, then turned back to her register.  She gave him his total, then paused.  “Want to take a crack at the trivia question?”  She tapped the little white board in front of her.  “Correct answer will knock ten cents off your total.”

Derek barely glanced at the board, which read “What is the least densely populated country in the world?”  “Greenland,” he said.

“Right you are!” Sam said, pressing the button on her screen to subtract the ten cents.  She told him his new total, then took his card.  “Kind of an easy one, I thought.  Last week we had a toughie--oldest building still in use.”

“The Pantheon in Rome,” he said.

Sam grinned at him.  “You are totally right!  Don’t go to trivia night at Jethro’s unless you’re gonna play on my team, please.”  He gave her a baleful look, clearly put out that she’d forced him to admit to his secret white chocolate shame.  She handed the cup to Izzy.  “Full fat white chocolate, with whip--”

“Hey--” Derek started to protest.

“--and sprinkles,” Sam finished.

Derek huffed.  “No sprinkles.”

Sam grinned at him.  “Fine, no sprinkles.  But double that whip.”

“Fine, whatever,” Izzy said, and took the cup.

* * *

After that, Derek came in a few times a week, always around 11 am.  He wasn’t forthcoming with information about himself, but she’d figured some things out based on context clues.  That he wasn’t from the immediate area was the most obvious thing (and not just from his clothes--not all of Beacon Hollow was as fancy as the neighborhood the Brew-Up was in, but it was a small enough town that most people were recognized by _someone_ when they walked in the door, and nobody ever seemed to know him.  Also she’d asked Jethro, whose family had owned the bar for generations and seemed to know everyone, and he didn’t know Derek, either).  He glared a lot, but he always dropped a dollar in the tip jar.  Once, in the middle of an unexpected rush, he’d dropped a five.  

Whatever he did for a living, it probably wasn’t in an office.  He often came in with dirt or what looked like cement dust on his clothes.  He gave off this loner air, but Sam knew that wasn’t true, since he seemed to get texts all the time.  Most of them got his exasperated huff in response, but sometimes, when Sam was busy making his drink and he thought she wasn’t looking, he’d scroll through his texts and get this little smile on his face.  Sam made a heart in his foam, and made sure he saw it before adding his usual mountain of whipped cream.  He’d glared, as usual, but the tips of his ears had gotten red.

“That is the cutest goddamn thing,” Sam said after Derek had walked out.

“I don’t care,” Izzy said.

On one memorable occasion, he was waiting in line and his phone actually _rang_.  He glanced at the screen, hovered his thumb over the red area like he was thinking about rejecting it, then sighed and picked up.

“What.”

(Sam couldn’t hear the other half of the conversation.)

“What do you mean ‘where am I?’”

“Why are you at my place?”

“Since when do you have a--of course you did.”

“You’ll have to wait at least” he lowered the phone to glance at the screen “25 minutes.”

(Sam did some mental calculations.  That would put home still inside Beacon County.  Josephson, maybe?  Or in the other direction--Beacon Hills?)

He rolled his eyes at whatever was being said.  “Fine.”

He hung up.

“Late for a rendez-vous?”  Sam asked him.

“No.”

“Well, it sounds like someone’s waiting for you, anyway.”  Sam punched in his regular order, then looked pointedly at the trivia board.

Derek glanced down.  “Buffalo,” he said, answering “What word can be used 8 times in a row in a grammatically correct sentence?”

Sam nodded, subtracted the 10 cents, then walked over to make his drink.

“He’s ridiculous,” Derek said, half under his breath.  Sam froze, astonished.  It was the first time Derek had ever volunteered any information without being prompted.

Sam pulled the milk out of the fridge and started pouring it.  “My ex girlfriend used to make plans for us, really awesome plans, like getting tickets to see Raiders of the Lost Arc in 3D or to a band that I really loved, but she would get so caught up in thinking up the surprise that she would forget to check to see if I could even go.  I mean, I’m a full-time grad student and I work here.  The first few times I could reschedule, but after that it would happen all the time, and the stress of missing work or a class made it hard to even enjoy whatever the thing was.”  Sam glanced up.  Derek was looking at her impassively.  “On the one hand, she was thoughtful, but on the other she was thoughtless.  In the end, we couldn’t find the balance.”

Derek looked back down at his phone for a moment, then locked it and put it back in his pocket.  “He’s not my--we’re not dating.”

“Okay.”  She made a little tree in the latte foam, added the whip, and handed it over.

Derek paused after putting the lid on the cup.  “That Indiana Jones thing sounds cool.”

Sam grinned.  “It totally was.”

* * *

 On a Saturday in March, Derek came in super early.  And he didn’t come alone.

The shop was absent the early morning pre-work rush they got on weekdays.  A guy Sam had never seen before walked in first, wearing torn jeans and a t-shirt which read ASK ME ABOUT THE FORCE under a frayed plaid shirt which was itself under a hoodie.  He was tall and lanky, and was speaking over his shoulder to someone Sam couldn’t immediately see.

“You told me I could have a beverage of my choice after the last hellish night, and I choose a beverage which is coffee, and from this place, because it is full of coffee.  There is cursed lake water in my jeep, Derek. _In my jeep_.”

As he finished saying it, Derek stepped out from behind him.  He was without his leather jacket, and his henley was torn across the side, with what looked like blood on the ragged edges of the tear.  The skin underneath was unblemished, as far as Sam could tell.  He also had a leaf in his hair.  He looked sort of like he’d fought a tree and lost.

“Hey--” Sam started to greet him, but Derek whipped his head up and pinned her with a panicked look.  It was the most emotion she had seen on his face, _ever_ , so she adjusted mid-sentence.  “--complete strangers whom I have never seen before!”

The one she didn’t know flashed her a strange look.  “Hey,” he said, voice gravely.  As they got closer, Sam noticed how exhausted they both looked.  Had they spent all night in the woods fighting a tree?  

“What can I get for you fine fellows?”

Derek was silent, still looking at Sam like he was trying to communicate something telepathically.  Sam gave him a minute shrug.  The other guy nudged Derek, who did not respond, so he said “Medium roast, black.  Largest you have.”

Sam punched it in, then looked to Derek.  He cast his eyes up to the menu.  They went left towards his beloved white mocha, then skittered in the other direction.  “Sir?”  she prompted.

“Americano,” Derek blurted.

“SHUT UP,” Sam exclaimed.

The other dude, who had been looking off idly to his right and fidgeting, froze and turned his head very slowly until he was looking straight at her, wide-eyed.

“Sorry!” Sam squeaked.  “I just--really like americanos.  I get really excited whenever someone orders one.”

Dude continued staring incredulously.  Sam looked at Derek, who had his eyes squeezed shut.

She cleared her throat delicately.  “And what size would you like that americano, sir?”

Derek opened his eyes.  “Medium,” he said slowly.

“Got it.”  Sam picked up a large to-go cup and a sharpie.  “The medium roast is brewing, so it’ll be a minute.  Can I get your name?”  The roast had finished brewing several minutes ago, but Sam was pretty sure she’d never get another chance like this one.

Plaid dude had stopped staring at her like she was an unexpected frog in his cereal.  “I’m Stiles,” he said, then nudged Derek with his elbow, “he’s Grumpy.”

“I _see_ ,” Sam said.  Derek glared at her.  She wrote the names on their respective cups, along with their orders.  “And would you like to try the trivia question?”

Derek glanced at the board.  He opened his mouth, then closed it.  “I don’t know the answer.”

Stiles looked over.  “Oh, that’s easy.  Han Solo won the Millennium Falcon in a sabacc tournament.  Can’t believe you don’t know that, dude.   _You’ve_ seen the movies, at least.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ve internalized them,” Derek grumbled.

Sam hid a smile as she ran his credit card through the machine.

Ishu was probably still in the back sleeping off his hangover, so Sam poured Stiles’ medium roast, and started on Derek’s “americano.”  They didn’t talk much as they waited, and Stiles held his cup close to his face so he could inhale the aroma as he waited for it to cool.  He was slumped forward, leaning a bit towards Derek.  Derek stood stiffly and looked determinedly at a random piece of local art.

Sam reached for the whipped cream on autopilot, then dropped it with a clang and put the lid on the drink instead.

“Grumpy?” she called cheerfully to him from two feet away.  He glared balefully and took the drink.  She started rinsing the pitcher, but glanced up in time to see Derek take a sip of his drink and look at her in surprise.  Sam wasn’t much of a winker by nature, but the moment felt right, so she winked at him.  And he smiled, the tiniest little smile.

* * *

 Derek missed a week after that, then resumed his usual schedule.  They didn’t talk about what happened, but Sam started writing “Grumpy” on his cup all the time, which he seemed to hate, but he also took to tipping $5 every time he came in, so Sam was getting a lot of mixed messages.  After the 6th $5 tip, even Izzy asked who he was.

About a month and a half after that Saturday, Derek came in looking thunderous.  Sam opened her mouth to ask, but Derek just said “No” and handed her his credit card.  He didn’t even glance at the trivia board, which was a bummer because the question was about the Mongols and she figured he’d be into that.

Sam could hear his phone buzzing as he waited for his drink, what looked like texts coming in, all of which he ignored.  The buzzing became a sustained sound, like the phone was ringing.  It rang twice, and finally Derek picked up.  “I don’t want to talk about it, Scott,” he said, and then “Oh, Kira.”  His expression softened.  “I can meet you there.  I’m getting coffee, you want something?”

He hung up, then walked back over to the register.  Sam raised her eyebrows at him.  “Could I get a green tea latte?  Medium.”

“Sure,” Sam said mildly.

“And it’s the Yuan.”

Sam glanced up.

“The answer to the question.  Last Mongol dynasty in China.”

“Right you are,” Sam said.

She wrote “Genghis Khan” on the cup.  He tipped $10.

* * *

 The next time Stiles came in with Derek, summer was in full swing.  He and Derek walked closer to each other than they had the last time.  There was a line, which they waited patiently in.  At one point, Stiles pulled out his phone, snorted at whatever was on the screen, then showed it to Derek.  Derek rolled his eyes, and Stiles lightly hip checked him in response.

When they got to the front, Stiles ordered an iced coffee.  Derek’s eyes started to do the panicked menu scan.

“So, I’ve been seeing this girl since the semester ended,” Sam said, looking at Derek.

Stiles had his brows raised slightly, but didn’t say anything.  “Oh...yeah?”  Derek responded.

“Yeah!  She’s really great, actually.  She doesn’t plan as many surprises as my ex did, but do you know the thing I like best about her?  How _honest_ she is with me.”  

Derek glanced quickly at Stiles, who was watching the interchange with interest.  “Fine,” he said grimly, and placed a hand on the counter.  “I’ll have an iced white mocha.”

“Extra whip?” Sam prompted.

Derek’s jaw tensed.  “Extra whip.”

Stiles opened his mouth.  “You shut up,” Sam said, pointing a sharpie at him.  She held his gaze for a moment.  

He shut his mouth.  “Okay,” he said softly, and put his hand next to Derek’s, linking their pinkies together.

Sam grinned at them both.  “Awesome.  Trivia?”

They both looked down.  “Joe DiMaggio,” they said in unison.

Sam snorted a laugh.

“We should get twenty cents off for that,” Stiles said.

“Rules are rules, sorry.”  She wrote their orders on their cups and passed them to Ishu.  “Who’s paying?”

“Oh,” Stiles scrambled for his wallet, “I am.”  He paid and they moved towards the bar.

Elena of the Yummy Mummies was next in line.  She watched wistfully as Derek and Stiles walked away, close enough that even without PDA, no one would mistake them for anything but on a date.  “Goddamn shame, that is,” she sighed.

“Oh, hush,” Sam said.  “Your usual?”

Elena nodded, still gazing at Derek’s butt.  “Small skinny double shot hazelnut latte no whip,” she said.  “Iced.”

Sam tapped the trivia board to get her attention.  “You know it?”

“Longest hitting streak?  No clue.”

Sam took her break fifteen minutes later, mixing herself an italian soda and slipping outside to text Lina about seeing a movie later on.  She leaned against the side of the building in the partial shade and sipped, chuckling at the string of emoji Lina sent.

“Why’d you start coming out here?  You do know we have, like, 3 coffee shops in Beacon Hills.  One of them isn’t even a Starbucks, you snob.”

It was Stiles’ voice.  They must have been sitting around the corner in front of the building.  There was a bench there.  Sam inched towards them, telling herself she wanted to get further in the shade.

“Sometimes I miss the anonymity of New York.  It’s nice to go someplace that’s a little bit...away, from everything in Beacon Hills.”

Sam heard ice rattling, a slurping sound.

“That’s so pleasant,” Derek said mildly.

“ _You’re_ pleasant,” Stiles said.

Lina sent 20 alien faces in a row.  Sam opened up the Fandango app to see if there was any sci-fi stuff playing that looked good.

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to find a place where no one would judge you for your sugary coffee drinks?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t.”

 _Jupiter Ascending’s at the dollar theater,_ Sam texted

 _omg yes_ , Lina responded, then followed it with a dog emoji, a girl wearing a crown, and a starry night.  Then she followed that with 15 bumble bees.  She was dedicated to her craft.

“I heard that there’s a bar here that does trivia nights,” Derek said.

“Oh man, we should go.  You’d kick ass.”

“You would, too.”

“Want to ask Scott and Lydia, make it a double?”

“You just want Lydia on your team.”

“Hey, Scott knows things, too!  But yes.”

Sam got a text from Izzy, reminding her that her break was up.  She finished the last of her soda.

From the front, there was the sound of something landing in the trash can.  “So, whattaya say?”  Stiles asked, “You good?”

“Yeah,” Derek said.  “I’m good.

**Author's Note:**

> 20 years later: Izzy is the foremost authority on the Del Norte Salamander. Ishu and Jonathan got married and bought the Brew-Up, which they both mostly ignore. Jethro has deeded half the bar to his daughter Rio, and he gets to spend more time visiting his family in Jamaica. He still knows everything about everyone in Beacon Hollow. Sam got her MFA finally and is the author of a YA series about a girl who hunts monsters with her best friend. It's gotten pretty popular lately. Lina is a horticulturalist. They got married 13 years ago, have 2 cats, and a truly impressive collection of VHS tapes.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Extra Whip](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125458) by [GoLBPodfics (digiella)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/digiella/pseuds/GoLBPodfics)




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